


I Believe

by Brumeier



Series: Life With Eli [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twas the night before Christmas, but something is stirring in the Sentinel's house. An unexpected visitor gives Jim and Blair something to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Believe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnieB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieB/gifts).



Jim’s eyes snapped open, sight automatically dialing up to compensate for the darkness. He cast a quick glance at the clock and saw it was still in the middle of the night. He did an automatic Sentinel scan, starting with the warm lump beside him on the bed. Blair was breathing deeply, his heart thumping its normal, comforting rhythm.

Jim stretched out hearing to the room across the hall. Three years ago it had been converted from a study to a child’s bedroom, and from the sounds of things Eli was still sound asleep in his new big boy bed, probably with his thumb half in his mouth. As always, the sound of his son sighing in his sleep brought a smile to Jim’s face.

Expanding the scan cleared the second floor, but the first floor yielded a third heartbeat, one that didn’t belong. Jim shook Blair’s shoulder and was already on his feet and opening the gun safe by the time his Guide turned bleary eyes on him. 

“It’s your turn,” he mumbled.

“There’s someone in the house,” Jim whispered urgently.

Blair reaction was instantaneous and spoke of his years working in tandem with law enforcement. He rolled out of bed, curls in wild disarray, and grabbed the baseball bat that lived under his side of the bed. Neither one of them bothered to put on more than boxer shorts as they passed through the baby gate and down the carpeted stairs. Familiarity guided Blair’s steps in the dark.

Jim didn’t know how anyone could have gotten through their state-of-the-art security system, which had been installed when they first brought the baby home. He could hear the hum of the electronics, see the little green lights that indicated everything was still functioning properly. And then he saw someone by the darkened Christmas tree and came to a sudden stop at the foot of the stairs.

“Jim?” Blair hissed, his voice nearly subvocal but perfectly audible to his Sentinel’s ears. “What is it?”

“Eyes,” Jim whispered back seconds before he hit the light switch, flooding the living room with light. Even with vision dialed down he immediately locked eyes on the man crouched in front of the tree, a gaily wrapped present in his hands. The intruder’s own eyes were wide as he stared back, caught in the act.

“ _Santa?_ ” Blair asked incredulously. “What the hell is going on, Jim?”

“What are you doing in here?” Jim asked, handgun out but pointed at the floor. “Who are you?”

The man, dressed in a red suit and matching hat, carefully set the present on the floor and stood up, holding his hands out. “Jimmy? Little Jimmy Ellison?” He had a deep, resonant voice and Jim’s hearing dialed up all on its own to catch the melodious nuances of it.

“And Blair Sandburg. Well, what a surprise!”

Jim took a deep breath, the scents of cinnamon and peppermint lingering on his tongue as he used taste in conjunction with smell. The man in the red suit smelled as good as he sounded, and nothing in his physiology indicated that he was up to no good.

Blair pressed close behind Jim, one hand curled around his arm. “What’s your read, big guy?”

“He smells like Christmas,” Jim said, feeling almost mesmerized. “And his voice…I can almost hear something. Like singing.”

“Peppermint sticks! You’re a Sentinel?” The intruder dropped his hands and took a few steps forward. 

“That’s far enough!” Blair pushed out from behind Jim and stood in front of him, brandishing the bat. “We’re calling the police!”

Jim kept mapping the man with his senses, finding layer upon layer of sensory information that just pulled him deeper into his curious fugue state. Animal musk and leather. Another, more elusive scent that reminded Jim of winter. There were tiny jingle bells on his polished black boots and the white trim on his red suit was made of real fur, though Jim couldn’t determine the original source. A long-forgotten memory was triggered quite suddenly, pulling him the rest of the way under.

_Jimmy camped out by the Christmas tree the year he was three, sneaking out of his room after his parents went to bed. He didn’t know that in the new year he’d gain heightened senses, which would change his life forever. He didn’t know that the year after that his mother would leave him and his new baby brother, for which he would always feel at least partially responsible. He didn’t know that it would be his last good Christmas for a very long time._

_He dozed off for a while, the blinking lights on the tree making him sleepy, but woke when some of the ornaments on the tree clinked together. His eyes got really wide when he saw Santa, sack and all, standing right there next to the couch._

_“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Santa said, but he didn’t sound mad._

_Jimmy just stared at him, unsure what to even say. He wanted to apologize for the naughty things he did all year, but maybe if Santa was there it meant he’d already been forgiven._

_“How old are you, Jimmy?” Santa asked, crouching down so they were eye level._

_“Three,” Jimmy whispered. Up close Santa’s suit looked soft, and he reached out to touch it. There were shiny brass buttons with wreaths on them, and his belt was thick and black with a shiny buckle._

_“Well, aren’t you a big boy! Can you give Santa a hug?”_

_Jimmy nodded and threw himself into Santa’s open arms. He gave good hugs, his mommy always said so, and he held on tight. The suit was soft against Jimmy’s cheek and smelled like peppermint and cinnamon._

_“Thank you very much,” Santa said. “Now go and get back in bed, young man. No opening your presents till morning!”_

_Jimmy did as he was told, though he paused at the top of the stairs to look back down and watch as Santa put a present under the tree. Then he scurried off to his room to crawl under his blankets and dream about flying reindeer._

“…back. You with me, Jim?” Blair was stroking his face, bat still clutched in his other hand. He was still standing between his Sentinel and the intruder, though Jim knew who he really was now.

“It’s okay, Chief. You can stand down.” Jim thumbed the safety on the gun. Blair shot him a look but lowered the bat; he trusted the Sentinel senses and his partner’s instincts. 

“What’s going on here, man?”

“It’s Santa,” Jim said, as if that explained everything. “I forgot about your last visit. I’m sorry.” 

“They always do,” Santa replied with a nod. “Very few adults can keep the faith the way children can.”

“Wait. Just wait.” Blair leaned the bat against the wall so he could gesture without taking anyone’s head off. “You’re telling me you think this guy is really _the guy_. Santa Claus.”

“I was three, the first time he came. It was before my senses came online.”

“I thought Sentinels were a myth,” Santa said, wonder in his own eyes. “In all my years, I’ve never come across one.”

Jim couldn’t help but grin as Blair went from agitated to thoughtful. The Guide could take himself out of academia, but he never lost the desire to learn or teach. It was no fluke that Eli, at only three years old, was already well-versed in all things dinosaur. As soon as he showed an interest Blair had been more than happy to add _amateur paleontologist_ to his repertoire.

“That actually makes sense, if you consider that the primitive cultures the Sentinels thrived in wouldn’t have the first idea about Christmas, much less Santa Claus. If you prescribe to the idea that Santa only visits children who actively celebrate the holiday, well, that’s a whole segment of the world’s population that gets missed.” Blair eyed Santa critically. “Are you really him?”

Santa laughed, and Jim felt himself swirling back into a zone on the rich sound of it. Blair forestalled him with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“Blair Sandburg, always questioning. You believed in _everything_ when you were a child.” Santa laced his fingers together atop his belly. “When you were five you sent me a letter, asking for a gift for your friend Toby.”

Blair’s eyes widened in shock, and Jim put an arm around him, pulling him close. “Oh, man. I forgot all about Toby. We were at a shelter together over the holidays.”

As always, Jim felt a little pang to hear his partner talk about his childhood. The Ellison home may have been a cold, empty place but at least Jim had a room of his own and the same bed to sleep in every night. Blair had moved around constantly, following the whims of his mother and her fluctuating financial status.

“There aren’t many children who put others first this time of year. But you did. And I did the best I could for Toby.”

“He got placed with a foster family right after the holidays. That was you?”

Santa nodded. “They ended up adopting him. Now he has a home of his own and a family of his own. All because of your Christmas wish.”

“That’s my Blair,” Jim said proudly. He kissed Blair on the forehead, knowing without having to look that his eyes were swimming with tears.

The moment was broken by a mournful cry from the top of the stairs. “Baba? Baba?”

“That’s me,” Blair said with a sniffle. He gave Jim a squeeze before heading up the stairs to retrieve their son.

Santa nodded and bent down to pick up his sack. “You’ve done very well for yourself, Jimmy. I’m always happy to see children who achieve their potential, though in your case I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond. A Sentinel! Wait till I tell the missus.”

Blair reappeared, a sleepy Eli balanced on his hip. The little boy could well have been their biological son, with his dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes. His thumb was firmly wedged in his mouth, and Jim knew they’d have to start dealing with that soon.

“Eli, can you say hello to Santa?” Blair rubbed his back, rucking up his Tyrannosaurus pajama top.

“Hello,” Eli mumbled around his thumb. He pressed his head against Blair’s neck but kept his eyes on Santa.

“Merry Christmas!” Santa replied heartily. He tweaked Eli’s nose, surprising a giggle out of him. “You’ve been a very good boy this year.”

“Yes.” Eli nodded.

“You keep on being good. And listen to your daddies.”

“Daddy!” He made grabby hands for Jim, and Blair transferred him to Jim’s open arms.

“Hey, buddy. You ready to go back to bed?”

Eli nodded, eyes already at half-mast. Jim turned to say something to Santa but the man had vanished. The Sentinel couldn’t find a sign of him anywhere in the house, and Blair looked as dumbfounded as he felt.

“Oh man. Did that just happen?”

Jim reached over and pinched Blair’s arm.

“Ow! Okay, point taken. But Jesus, Jim! That’s just…he was…”

“I know, Chief. I know.”

Together they trooped back upstairs, Blair turning off the light once the baby gate had been re-latched. Jim normally didn’t encourage Eli to sleep with them but under the circumstances he couldn’t help but offer. The little boy squirmed unhappily.

“No, Daddy. Big boy bed!”

“Okay, pal.” Jim tucked his son in while Blair watched from the doorway. Eli snuggled under the covers, one arm around the stuffed monkey he dragged almost everywhere. Jim kissed him on the top of his curly head and joined Blair out in the hall.

“Merry Christmas, Eli,” Blair said softly. 

“Merry kissmas, Baba,” was the sleepy reply.

“Come on, Baba,” Jim said with a smirk. “Let’s get you tucked in as well.”

They settled back into their bed, Blair a comforting warmth at Jim’s side. He knew they needed to get some sleep while they could, because Eli would be up early and raring to open his presents. Still, discovering that Santa Claus was real wasn’t something that could easily be put aside.

“It’s unbelievable,” Blair said. “I mean, from an anthropological point of view this has long-reaching ramifications. If Santa is real, what other presumably mythological figures are out there running around? Olympian gods? The Easter bunny?”

“Don’t start writing that paper yet, Sandburg.” Jim tugged him closer, till his Guide was half-sprawled across his chest. “Could be we just had some bad eggnog.”

“Bah, humbug?” Blair chuckled. “I guess if I can believe in Sentinels, it’s not such a stretch to believe in Santa.”

“Just so long as you never stop believing in _me_ ,” Jim said fondly. It may have taken the old guy a lot of years, but he’d gotten Jim everything he’d ever wanted. A life of purpose, someone who loved him unconditionally, and a little boy that looked up to him and let him prove every day that he could be a better father than his own had been.

“You never have to worry about that, big guy,” Blair assured him. He leaned in for a kiss, soft and sweet. “You’re the best gift I ever got.”

Even after so many years together the sentiment made Jim blush. “Me too, Blair. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Apparently my mind is stuffed full of Christmas fluff this year. And for some reason I felt compelled to write a holiday fic for each of my three main fandoms. Coincidentally, it’s also annieb1955’s birthday, and since she’s a Sentinel fan just like me I’m gifting this little fic to her. Happy birthday, baby! And Merry Christmas!


End file.
